Exotic Escapades
by Lilyx1021
Summary: Michael and Nikita mission in gorgeous Hawaii! Back when Nikita was still inside Division.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I decided to continue :) The hellatus has been driving me insane and writing is slightly easing the pain. LOL anyhow, sequel to Sanity and Seduction, picks up right after the last chapter. Enjoy! **

Nikita smiled, reclining back in the spacious airplane seat. Michael was seated next to her, holding onto her hand delicately. Both of their ring fingers glimmered with silver bands. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling his cheek.

"God, this is cheesy," she muttered under her breath.

His hold on her hand immediately tightened. "Stay in character," he murmured, brushing her hair with his lips.

After their plane from Italy had landed in the US, Michael and Nikita had been whisked back into Division. Percy and Amanda were waiting in Operations to congratulate the weary and jet-lagged couple.

"Carlos and Michelle are going to be transferred into another op. You two are replacing them." Percy smiled coldly, motioning toward his two favorite agents. He prodded Birkhoff's shoulder who started, then tapped in several codes onto his keyboard. A picture of a smiling blonde woman and a brunette man appeared on the low-hanging screens. They were a picturesque couple. The blonde reminded Nikita of a silver screen starlet and the man as a typical 'Hollywood hunk'.

"Target is Victoria Aston. 22 years old. Her father—Edmund Aston—runs the main drug smuggling ring in England. He supplies the country with most of its cocaine and marijuana. She'll be vacationing with her fiancé Austin Greene. Apparently, Greene is also an alleged partner of daddy's business." Birkhoff read off of his computer screen, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

Nikita frowned. "Why are we targeting her and not her father?"

"Her father is too heavily protected. He's supported by the Mafia and the Red Circle Triads," Percy cut in. "Going after him would be useless. And this is only intel."

Amanda smiled frigidly. "His daughter is his weak spot. She'll be inheriting the Aston drug empire so she's just started to dip her feet into the pool."

Clicking her fingers at Birkhoff, he hurriedly tapped out another string of code, revealing a list of names.

"We only need confirmations. Obviously, her contacts will be in her phone. So you'll have to get close enough to retrieve it. We'll be keeping both of your names to prevent any slip-ups. Michael will be posing as a member of an architectural firm, but Nikita won't need a job," Amanda continued, while handing them two ring boxes. Flipping them open, their wide eyes were met with two sparkling rings. While Michael's band was only simple silver, Nikita's was slathered in diamonds.

"They're real," Amanda smiled, answering Nikita's unspoken question. Grabbing a slim leather box, she handed it to Michael. Inside a Baume & Mercier watch rested on a velvet cushion.

"There's a tracker in there," Birkhoff pointed. "Our systems can't locate the tracker in your body if you're underground or underwater. That baby works up to 20 miles below the biosphere."

Michael nodded, snapping it onto his wrist. Even after Nikita's vehement protests, Amanda still rolled out an enormous suitcase chock full of custom-selected clothing. After another hour, Nikita and Michael found themselves on another plane, this time setting out for Hawaii's Big Island. Before boarding, Michael had pulled Nikita aside.

He was visually uncomfortable and kept tugging at the collar of his white T-shirt.

"What?" Nikita demanded, confused. She had never seen Michael look so incredibly embarrassed and tongue-tied.

"We have to stay in character the entire trip."

She frowned. "I know, Amanda already said that."

He shook his head. "No, the _entire_ time. This is an important op and there's a chance that the room could be bugged. And that people could be watching."

Her eyes widened and she finally understood. "Oh."

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "So anyone watching will be looking for signs of Division agents. So you have to practice, okay? I'll go first."

Abruptly, his expression melted into one of such sappy love that Nikita thought she would have puked if it had been on anyone's face except for his. She burst into a fit of giggles, leaning over to brace her hands against her knees.

"Wow, you're good," she chortled.

He rolled his eyes. "Apparently, you don't listen to a thing I say. Stay in character."

"Okay, okay," she amended. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek. "Sorry, _honey_."

He wound his arm around her waist and guided them back into the terminal. Settling into their seats, she kept her hand in his as they waited for their flight. Frowning sadly, she stared out the window, watching the jets take off. As far as she was concerned, her 'character' wasn't too far from her true self.

Michael glanced down at his newlywed wife. Her lips were slightly turned down and a pucker had appeared between her eyebrows. He quickly stopped himself from lifting his hand to her cheek before remembering that he didn't have to control his feelings. Smoothing out the crease in her forehead, he pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the orange blossom scent.

"Something wrong, hun?"

Nikita gazed at him, a grin pulling at her lips. "Nothing. I'm just glad that I finally got my workaholic husband to go on his own honeymoon."

He chuckled softly. "Anything for you."

She flushed pink and dropped her head, allowing a drape of hair to fall between them. "This is weird," she whispered.

"Stop complaining," he breathed into her hair, the 'Michael' reappearing. "Just do your best."

Raising her eyebrows, she threw him a calculated look. "My best?" she challenged.

"Bring it on."

She slowly leaned forward, glancing at him from under her eyelashes. They both simultaneously reached for the other, once again cresting the invisible barrier that usually existed at Division. Their lips inched closer and closer until—

"All first class passengers of Flight 891 please prepare your boarding pass and report to flight entrance 6A." A nasally voice squawked over the intercom and Michael gritted his teeth in frustration. What was it with airport people and them ruining intimate moments?

He shouldered his carry on, before offering his hand to Nikita, who gracefully accepted it, rising to her feet.

They quickly found their seats and Michael began to stow his bag into the overhead compartment. Nikita handed him her Hermes tote that Amanda had supplied her with, a mere prop in her role as a well-privileged socialite. Tucking it in with his bag, he shut the compartment and smoothly seated himself next to her.

"Thank you," she smiled, leaning forward.

He glanced at her quickly and saw the clear meaning written there. Gradually, they gravitated toward each other again until a bright voice popped up from behind them.

"Hello, I'm Ryan, your captain; it's a pleasure to be flying with you today!"

They both turned to see a beaming man in his late thirties grinning at them from the aisle. On the other side of the plane, they could see Ryan's co-pilot greeting other passengers similarly. Michael snarled low under his breath.

"It's nice to meet you," Nikita said, her icy tone a clear sign of dismissal.

"Yes, very nice," Michael piped up.

"Nice to meet you, too," the captain tipped his head, clearly understanding their message. He ambled on, speaking to the next set of unfortunate travelers.

Nikita sighed, toying with the ring on her finger. Another moment ruined.

Michael once again detected the downturn of her lips. _Screw it_, he thought. Leaning forward, his hand reached for her cheek and he turned her head towards him. Her eyes were wide and surprise was written plainly in them. He pressed his lips softly to hers for a millisecond, before pulling away quickly.

"Just to clear the air," he murmured, taking her hand in his again, fervently hoping that she didn't notice how damp they were.

"Mmm," she mumbled. Her head was foggy and blood was boiling in her lips. She shook her head groggily, before she resigned herself to a dreadfully confusing two weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: 5 hours left ! I live on the West Coast :( I let a friend read this chapter and she said it needed more honeymoon-ish stuff. So here ya go.. :)**

"Michael and Nikita Lawson?" Their attendant patiently glanced at the beaming couple, then back at the computer's glowing screen.

Smiling slightly, Nikita leaned against Michael's arm, glad that this employee was a man. Michael had already been hit on more times than she could count. Sure, other men were also throwing themselves at her but Michael hardly batted an eye in response.

"South Tower Presidential Suite. An assistant will be by shortly to escort you to your room."

'Room' was an extreme underestimation. It sat upon the hotel's top floor, overlooking the snorkeling lagoon and Pacific Ocean. The kitchen was filled with state-of-the-art appliances, each piece gleaming in the setting Pacific sunlight. The living room's glass doors were thrown open to reveal an enormous balcony, with two lawn chairs positioned around a tiny glass table covered in purple orchids. The entire suite was patterned in comforting shades of pale green and white, complete with woodsy elements. It wasn't just a suite, it was practically a villa.

Venturing into the bedroom, Nikita stood in the doorway, eyes wide open in shock. An enormous four-poster bed paneled in teak dominated the space, white gauzy curtains tied back to reveal orchid petals scattered in a heart on the bed. It didn't stop there. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket; a platter of chocolate-dipped fruit sitting next to it. Through the bathroom door, she spotted dozens upon dozens of candles positioned across the vanity, throwing fantastic glimmering shadows onto the marble walls. She swallowed hard. _Why Percy, why? _She demanded silently, fists clenching.

Michael sauntered in, unaffected by the magnificence splayed in front of him. Rolling their suitcases into the closet, he ventured back out, trademark smirk on his lips.

"Perks to being vice president at the firm."

She smiled, aware of his underlying meaning. Raising an accusing eyebrow, she pointed her finger at the bed. "You did this?"

His lips twitched slightly. "The 'make room for romance' package." Leaning in, he whispered delicately into her ear. "Remember what happened on our last night in Italy?"

Her mouth curled into a snarl, remembering how she had tried to tempt him. Growling inaudibly, she resisted the urge to sucker punch him. "You wouldn't."

Smiling wickedly, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. Her bearing automatically softened and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, I would," he breathed against her trembling lips.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Brown's Beach House Restaurant. I'm Cathy; I'll be your server for this evening. Are you ready to order?" Their waitress beamed, flashing Michael a dazzling smile. Nikita ground her teeth in frustration. He was <em>hers<em>. Well—at least for two weeks he was.

Politely brushing away her advances, Michael ordered for himself and Nikita, shooting her a subtle wink. After Cathy left—disappointed—Michael slid his hand across the table, clasping Nikita's.

Their table had been specifically selected by Michael. It was on the outermost edge of the terrace, slightly removed from the rest of the diners. Due to the proximity with the ocean, the roar of the crashing waves was loud enough to deter anyone from eavesdropping.

"Yes, hubby?" she teased, her grin dimpling her cheeks.

"Focus for a second, Nik," he chided. "Victoria and Austin will be checking in tomorrow. We'll plant the bait then, okay?"

"Fine," she sighed. "Do you have the itinerary?"

"Birkhoff sent it to me while we were on the plane," he replied. "You're going to sign up for hula dancing and I'll be golfing with him."

She rolled her eyes. "Ick. Hula dancing."

He shook a finger at her. "Hey, don't judge a book by its cover. Maybe it'll be fun. Or…maybe it'll just be a complete disaster. One of the two."

She smacked him on the arm, subtly adding more force than necessary. "Don't make me start a lovers' quarrel over my hula dancing skills."

Glancing up, she immediately snatched at her napkin, dabbing it across her lips. "Target, 5 o'clock," she coughed delicately.

Victoria Aston and Austin Greene were standing at the podium talking with the maitre'd. Actually, arguing was a better word. Victoria seemed incredibly irritated, her sea-green eyes were narrowed and her mouth was carved into a sneer. Immediately, Nikita felt a strong dislike toward the younger woman. However, she sympathized with her target's other half, who was standing slightly behind Victoria, his eyes cast away as though he was embarrassed by his lover.

As a waiter led them to their table—which was situated right behind Michael and Nikita's—Austin shot the maitre'd an apologetic look, mouthing _I'm sorry_.

Michael and Nikita subtly observed the couple through their strained meal. Victoria was constantly in control of their conversation, frequently cutting across Austin. When their waiter appeared, Victoria ordered for both of them…it was considerably less cute and definitely not as romantic as Michael's sweet gesture.

Nikita frowned, confused over the couple. The way Amanda and Birkhoff had described them, Nikita had surmised them to be massive partiers and beyond sappy in their love. However, the word love could hardly have been applied to their current situation. Victoria was sitting ramrod straight and her cold blue eyes were narrowed scornfully at Austin.

Disgusted, Nikita finally reached forward, grabbing Michael's hand. "I'm so full, honey. Let's go for a walk."

Nodding, Michael dropped his napkin onto the table and called their waiter.

"Yes sir?" Cathy asked, her eyes momentarily lit up with hope.

Handing her his room key, Michael stood, pulling Nikita up with him. "Charge it to our room."

Towing her away from an obviously irritated Cathy, Michael slid his arm around Nikita's waist, dragging them down the steps onto the powder-white sand of the beach. From the corner of her eyes, Nikita could barely make out Austin's eyes snapping up, gazing at them. Abruptly, Victoria's harsh words barraged him and he turned reluctantly back to her.

Once they had journeyed past the many other honeymooning couples and giggling tourists, they released the other's hands, not having to keep up the façade anymore. Immediately Michael missed the soft, warm touch of her skin against his, but he kept his mouth clamped shut in case he blurted out anything rash.

"I thought they were coming tomorrow?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Guess not. Did you see anything weird?"

Nikita shot me an incredulous look. "_Weird_? They're the worst honeymooning couple I've ever seen. For God's sake, we're better than them."

She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, staring blankly out at the sea. "It just doesn't seem right."

The ominous-looking clouds partially shielding the moon seemed to agree with her.

* * *

><p>Nikita emerged from the shower, luminous skin glowing from the steaming spray. Shrugging into a fluffy cotton robe, she ventured out of the bathroom to see Michael standing on the balcony, popping open the bottle of champagne. The tray of fruit sat next to him, adorned with a bundle of red hibiscus.<p>

"You're really doing this?" she asked, whisking the screen door open.

"Doing what?" he replied, pouring out two glasses. He handed her one, clinking his flute against her. Leaning around her, he grabbed a flower, tucking it into her hair.

" 'Making room for romance' ", she said, popping a chocolate-covered strawberry into her mouth and taking a sip.

"Well why not? We're on our honeymoon, _sweetie_." He extended one arm and she stepped into his embrace, rolling her eyes at the nickname.

The moon was enormous, throwing silvery beams onto the lanai. Their entire balcony was bathed in gleaming light, the rolling waves of the ocean singing a gentle lullaby to them. She sighed softly into his neck, feeling his warm breath caress her hair. She didn't know how long they stood there before Michael spoke, his husky voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Nikki—" he started.

Breaking away from him, she cocked an eyebrow, setting her glass down. "You're really going to bring this up again?"

"You know that we have to talk about…_it_."

"Well, we can talk about it later," she said firmly, turning away and entering their bedroom. Michael followed her into their walk-in closet, where she plopped down onto the ground. Unzipping her suitcase, she pulled him next to her, pointing to the assortment of skimpy lace and satin lying inside.

"Pick one."

Michael groaned silently, watching her drape Amanda-selected sleepwear onto the ground next to his feet. Nikita smirked at him, straightening up. "Hurry up."

"Why Nik?" he swallowed, already imagining her in the vast collection lying before him.

"I'm making room for romance."

"Fine, fine. I pick the one that covers the most."

Grinning slyly, she motioned for him to turn around. When he made a complete 360, she was already clad in a black satin slip. Turning away from his awestruck gaze, she pulled back the covers on their bed, the orchid petals fluttered to the ground. She hopped onto the bed, patting the spot next to her, smiling wickedly. He pulled off his shirt and clambered up next to her. Immediately she nestled into his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. In a surprise move, he launched himself forward, wrapping his hands around her biceps and pressing her into the mountain of pillows.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he asked in a strangled voice.

She burrowed herself closer to him and placed her lips against his ear, whispering breathily. "Because payback's a bitch."

Groaning aloud, he released her and she rubbed at her arms, wincing at the prickle of blood flowing back through her veins. Rolling over, he buried his face into the pillow, back to her. She could see every distinct muscle in his back tensed. Even though this was the reaction she was expecting, it wasn't as satisfying as she had anticipated it to be. Sighing, she leaned forward, laying one arm on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Turning away, she faced the wall, embarrassment flooding through her once again. A warm hand suddenly brushed across her palm before it enclosed her hand and she felt the heat of his bare chest pressed against her back. Spinning around, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his cheek.

"You forgive too easily."

"It's our honeymoon. I'm supposed to give in if we fight."

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips softly against hers. When their lips finally broke apart, they both knew. The line in the sand, the forbidden barrier, had finally been crossed.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Super excited for tomorrow! I kinda ran wild with this chapter :) Read, review, and enjoy! **

Nikita stormed into the bedroom, throwing her grass skirt and lei of plumeria flowers onto the floor.

"What?" Michael asked, glancing up from his computer.

"You were right. It was a complete disaster." She collapsed next to him, the hem of her white tank top inching its way up her taut stomach. His eyes automatically drifted towards her body and his hand curled into hers. They'd been remarkably good at maintaining their cover in the privacy of their suite. It was natural for them, the lovey-dovey emotions flooded out involuntarily whenever they were in each other's presence.

"What happened?" he asked, addressing her belly button.

She curled into him, her voice muffled in his collarbone. "I spent an hour shaking my ass and I didn't _learn_ anything new. Or meet any new people."

"Oh, that's fine. I went golfing today and nothing exciting happened either."

Nikita quirked her eyebrows at him and he inclined his head slightly. They both knew the other understood the hidden implications sitting under their words. She rolled over, burying her face in the sheets. "My hips hurt. And my butt. And my thighs."

He grinned, one hand lightly stroking her back. "Do you want a massage?"

She immediately tackled him, pushing him up against the bed's headboard. Her eyes were glimmering. "Let's get a couple's massage!" she practically squealed.

He shuddered. The idea of being in a room with Nikita—naked—and combined with the intense effects of a massage would send him into overdrive. "No, no way."

Her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. "This _is_ our honeymoon. Our has a 'you' and a 'me' in it. And right now, the 'me' is overruling the 'you'. So, too bad."

Bouncing up, she darted out of the door. Poking her head back in, she sent him a dazzling smile. "And for the record, the 'me' will be overruling the 'you' for the rest of our marriage."

He snorted. Their 'marriage' would be ending in two weeks.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Nikita and Michael were making their way through the resort towards the spa, hands wound together. They entered the lobby of the 'Spa Without Walls' and immediately spied Victoria sitting on one of the ottomans clustered around the room. Nikita strode up to the counter, taking Michael with her.<p>

"Hi, appointment for four o'clock? Reserved under Lawson."

The tiny woman behind the counter smiled. "You are reserved for the dolphin hut. Please, have a seat. Your masseuses will be out in a moment to escort you to the cabana."

"Thank you," Nikita replied, turning away and dragging Michael onto the sofa closest to Victoria.

She pressed her lips against his ear and whispered so quietly that he could barely make out her voice. "Let's put on a show for her."

He answered by touching his lips against hers, pulling her onto his lap. Instantly, Victoria's eyes snapped over to them. A strange emotion was in those icy blue orbs, but before Nikita could dissect it, a soft, high-pitched voice rang out.

"Michael and Nikita Lawson?"

They straightened out of their intimate position and followed the two petite women out onto the beach. One gestured towards two massage beds positioned under a thatched bamboo roof, while the other addressed the duo.

"I'll give you a moment to undress and get comfortable." They smiled simultaneously, then touched their hands to their lips.

Nikita turned towards Michael and saw a flash of passion dart across his face before it disappeared.

Hurriedly, she pulled off her tank dress and clambered under the glossy sheets. Relaxing in the feel of satin against her skin, she turned to see Michael positioned similarly on his bed. He extended a hand to her and she took it, smiling softly.

"Remember, this was your idea." He smirked at her and she hated herself for loving that grin.

A small voice piped up from behind them. "I don't think you will regret it."

They both started, unaware that their masseuses had returned. Warm, soothing hands were placed onto their backs and slowly the duo sank into soothing bliss. Regretfully, Michael released Nikita's hand as he watched her eyelids slowly drift closed.

* * *

><p>"I'm heading out." Michael stuck his head into the bedroom where Nikita was curled up on the chaise, pretending to be interested in an article on the escapades of the latest <em>Bachelorette<em>.

"Where to?" she asked, peering at him from behind the magazine.

"Well, my wife needs something nice to wear to dinner tonight."

Her eyebrows wrinkled. "But, I already have something to wear."

He laughed, it sounded distinctly fake to his ears. "No, something to go around her neck, or maybe on her wrist."

"Oh." She still looked confused. "Well, have fun, sweetie."

Leaning forward, he pecked her lightly on the cheek before walking out the door.

Michael ventured into the lobby, walking past the various couture stores, before finally spotting Victoria in a jewelry store. Strolling in, he made his way to the front of the glass enclosed counter.

"Welcome to _Cartier_! My name is Nancy, how may I help you?" A smiling employee dressed immaculately in a white blouse and crisp slacks addressed him politely.

"I'm looking for a statement piece for my wife. She's a jewelry person, but I'm hopeless with that kind of stuff." he responded, grinning sheepishly.

"What's your price range?"

"I don't have one, as much as it takes." He smiled, thinking of Nikita wrapped up in the dazzling gemstones set on the counter.

From behind, he saw Victoria casually glance over at him, before doing a double take.

"Rubies, definitely. She looks good in red." To his sheer embarrassment, he felt a blush creep onto his cheeks, remembering their passionate—though brief—incident in Italy.

"We can start with the teardrop necklace. Really accentuates the neck. This piece is set with 30 rubies, interlaced with 45 diamonds. Set in white gold." Nancy grinned at him. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful." A cool voice bloomed from behind them. Turning around, Michael spotted Victoria leaning against the counter, gazing at the necklace.

"You think so?" Michael asked, momentarily satisfied that he had captured her attention. "I still think that she deserves something…even bigger."

Nancy's eyebrows shot up. "Bigger?" she asked, before recovering quickly and rummaging for another necklace.

"Your wife has expensive taste," Victoria said, icy blue eyes gleaming.

"I spoiled her when we were dating," Michael responded, laughing softly.

Reappearing at his elbow, Nancy set a black, velvet box onto the table. "This one's called the Star of India," she said breathlessly, lifting up the lid. "I'll let it speak for itself."

Michael gulped, shuddering to think how much it would cost. He was incredibly thankful that Division would cover the cost of all the expenses of their trip.

"Wow," Victoria sighed dreamily. "Wish my fiancé would do stuff like this for me."

"I'm pretty sure he does it in his own way," Michael reassured her gently, before turning back to Nancy. "I love it, charge it to my room."

Sliding the necklace back into its velvet case, Nancy handed it to Michael, beaming. "Thank you sir, and enjoy your stay!"

He nodded back, before turning to Victoria who was still staring at the package in his hands. "It was nice meeting you—?"

"Victoria." She said, shaking his hand daintily. "It was also nice meeting you—?"

'Michael," he replied.

"Michael," she repeated quietly. Abruptly snapping out of her softened state, she reverted back to the icy bitch that Michael had seen at dinner. "Well, I hope to see you around, Michael."

Nodding at him, she turned around smartly and marched out, Dior heels clicking on the marble floors. Pausing at the door, she revolved to face him again. "Actually, my fiancé and I are attending the Gathering of the Kings tonight. Would you like to come and bring…your wife with you?"

"It'd be a pleasure to see you again and meet your fiancé," Michael replied smoothly.

"It's a date then," she smiled glacially, before walking out again.

Throwing a satisfied look at her back, Michael also exited the store, walking in the opposite direction of her. Venturing into his suite, he procured the box from its bag, handing it to a waiting Nikita.

"Michael," she said, teasingly. "You're spoiling me."

He plopped onto the sofa next to her, draping an arm over her shoulders. "Just open it."

The sparkle of the stones was nothing compared to the one glimmering in Nikita's eyes. "Michael, it's _beautiful_."

"Anything for my wifey." He grinned sappily, before pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Honey, you couldn't have possibly picked this on your own," Nikita ventured, shooting him a questioning glance.

"You're right; I met this lovely woman who helped me pick it out," he began.

"Oh?" she asked, with eyebrows slightly raised.

"She invited us to the Gathering of the Kings tonight. I would love it if you could meet her. Her name's _Victoria_."

"Michael, are you sure that…?" She cocked her head to the side.

"Is that jealousy, I detect?" he asked maliciously, with an angelic smile on his lips. He leaned forward to slowly press his lips against hers. Right before their lips touched, Nikita twisted her head to the side quickly, causing Michael's nose to collide with her ear.

"Not even a little bit."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Please read and review, hope you enjoy! :)

Michael glanced at his watch, staring at the ticking second hand. "Nik, it's been ten minutes already. Hurry up; we're going to be late."

"Okay, okay I'm coming," she called back, a touch of irritation in her voice. She marched into the living room and leaned against the doorframe. Michael's eyes roved over his partner's perfection. Her little black dress dipped into a sweetheart neckline, accentuating the sparkling gemstones clustered at her throat. She twirled slowly, then ambled toward him. He tugged at his maroon tie, his breath still stuck in his throat.

"Good enough to be a Lawson?" she asked, smiling broadly.

"Absolutely."

Her hands ghosted up to his collar and she unknotted his tie. He caught the silk just as it left his neck. "What?"

"The color is awful," she responded, leaning down and fumbling through his suitcase. Spotting a flash of scarlet, she yanked it out, throwing it over Michael's shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw the familiar tie, realizing that the last time her hands had been on it was back in Italy. He watched the flush creep onto her skin, staining her cheeks pink. Hurriedly shrugging off her flustered nerves, she expertly looped the tie around Michael's neck.

"Perfect." She declared, patting him smartly on the shoulder.

"As are you." The words fell out of his mouth and he snapped it shut, wondering how she would react.

"Thanks honey," she shot him a grin, gliding away towards the door. Extending her open hand, she allowed a smirk to creep up onto her face. "Come on, I want to meet your new friend."

They ventured out onto the hotel grounds, following the swell of other diners. Torches had been set up and the tables surrounded an earthen stage. The entire setting was furnished with tiki materials and every surface was dripping in orchids. Michael spotted Victoria and raised a hand in greeting. Approaching the table, he smiled at her, before letting an arm snake around Nikita's waist, drawing her body towards his.

"This is my wife, Nikita."

Victoria raised her eyebrows coolly, taking in Nikita and Michael's intimate stance. "What a…unique name. It's a pleasure to meet you." It obviously wasn't.

Turning away from Nikita, she motioned towards her fiancé. "This is Austin. We're getting married in a month." He nodded mutely, eyes glued to the table. "Come, sit down." She grabbed Michael's arm, pulling it into the seat next to her. Thankfully, the table was square; allowing Nikita to sit on Michael's other side. He kept his hand in hers and shot her a knowing glance before he was yanked into a conversation with Victoria. Turning her attention away from the icy Barbie, Nikita directed her concentration toward Austin.

"So, how long have you and Victoria been together?" she asked, plucking up some small talk.

His brown eyes drifted towards her and he offered her a wan smile. "Practically our whole lives." He started when Victoria's hand clamped onto his arm, her manicured nails digging into his wrist.

"It's a long story," she said, with all the sweetness of a poisoned apple. She glared at Austin and his eyes left Nikita's and focused on the napkin he was twisting nervously in his hands. "One that we won't be able to tell in just one night." She released Austin's arm and turned back towards Michael. Nikita spotted scarlet half-moons in Austin's skin before he hastily covered it with his hand. She heard him mutter faintly under his breath. "Thank God there's an open bar."

Laughing lightly, she patted him on the hand. "We're going to have _lots_ of fun together."

* * *

><p>"C'mon people, get down on the dance floor!" Their deejay roared into the microphone, motioning giggling couples down.<p>

"Michael," said Victoria, smiling at him. "Would you care for a dance?"

Immediately Nikita's temper flared hotly and she had to exercise every speck of self-control that Amanda had gifted her with not to take her fork and shove it up Miss Prissy's plastic-surgeoned nose. Michael's hand squeezed hers reassuringly, momentarily reducing her spark of hatred.

"I'd love to," he answered, before focusing his gaze on Nikita, nudging her foot with his. "If that's okay with you, honey. And with Austin."

"Austin is fine with it," Victoria said as Austin opened his mouth. Shutting it, he leaned back in his seat, expression blank. Refocusing her attention back on Michael, Victoria shot Nikita a beady glare. "So? What'll it be?"

"You two have fun," she said tightly, before standing up, smoothing out her dress. "I'm going to get a drink at the bar. Maybe Austin can come with me."

Austin glanced at Victoria—as though he was asking for permission—before realizing that she wasn't paying him any attention. Sighing softly, he stood following Nikita as she marched away from their table, the nails of her clenched fists burying themselves into her flesh. She wanted to yank the blonde Barbie's hair out of her head. She made her way towards the bar and plopped down, Austin seating himself beside her.

"Enjoying the party so far?" she asked sarcastically.

He snorted. "As long as Victoria is enjoying it, then it doesn't matter if I am."

"Geez, Austin, grow a spine. You _are_ going to marry her and she is going to be _your_ wife."

Laughing bitterly, he ordered a scotch from the bartender. "Hardly. It isn't me that's marrying her."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, subtly nudging the conversation toward the forbidden subject. Resting her elbows on the bar, she turned her head toward him, focusing all attention onto him.

"Victoria's father owns this huge…corporation," he began. "My dad is second in command to the business."

Nikita snickered. "Wow. This sounds like the beginning of an arranged marriage."

Austin nodded sadly. "That's basically it. When Victoria and I were born within a year of each other, it was a match made in heaven." His tone turned sour and he grabbed his drink, swiftly downing it and ordering another.

After the bartender set another glass in front of him, he continued. "She's the heir to the company and I'll always be second. We were never really fond of each other and she's been lording her power over me ever since we got engaged."

"If she doesn't love you, why on earth would she agree to marry you?"

He took a swig from the glass. "It's always been a family company; it's even part of their motto. Anyway, Victoria's too loyal to it. And to her father. She's the biggest Daddy's girl on the planet."

"Then what about you? Are you a momma's boy?"

He choked out another harsh laugh. "I never met my mum. She left my dad after she gave birth to me."

Nikita's attitude turned sympathetic. Taking his arm, she patted it gently. "C'mon, let's get really drunk."

Behind their backs, Michael and Victoria twirled blissfully, their eyes locked onto each other.

* * *

><p>Nikita flung open the door to their suite, barreling into the living room. "Michaeeeeeeel!" she practically sang, twirling herself into the room.<p>

He dashed into the room, eyes wide, taking in Nikita's mad dance around the space. He grabbed her wrists and guided her to the couch, sitting her down. "Okay, okay. Calm down. Did you get the _names_ of the restaurants that we wanted?" he asked, using the uncreative 'code' he had invented to speak with her about the op.

She smiled widely, her lopsided grin ballooning her cheeks. "Totally, I have everything here." Beaming, she tried to toss him her phone, but it slipped out of her grasp and bounced onto a sofa cushion. She giggled as she watched Michael smoothly snatch it up.

His eyes narrowed as the stench of alcohol reached his nose. "Nikki, you've been drinking," he accused.

"I drank and you danced," she drawled. "We both had fun, so all's fair."

She stood up, teetering precariously. Michael grabbed her around the waist, before flinging her over his shoulder and carrying her into the bathroom. "I wonder how you even found our room in that state."

Wetting a towel with cold water, he tenderly applied it to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration that had gathered there. Gathering her in one arm, he turned the faucet on with the other, filling the tub with warm water. Swiftly stripping her of her dress, he eased her into the tub. She protested, splashing him with drops.

"I don't need a bath," she objected childishly, her lips curving into a pout.

Ignoring her complaints, he grabbed a bar of soap and proceeded to scrub her down. "You're quite cute when you're drunk. And stubborn."

"I know," she giggled hysterically, leaning against his arms.

After washing the alcohol stink out of her skin, Michael pulled a still drunk Nikita into the bedroom. He bundled her into one of his T-shirts, not wishing to subject himself to the torture of dressing her in one of the skimpy outfits that Amanda had chosen.

Plopping her on the bed, he secured her flailing limbs under the blankets. Quickly sliding in on her other side, he pulled her towards him, locking her appendages against his body.

"I'm not tired," she said stubbornly, squirming in his grasp.

"I don't care," he replied, smiling into her hair.

"My hair's wet, I'll catch a cold and die."

His brow wrinkled. "Your hair's not wet; I tied it up for you. And even if you did get sick, I'd be more concerned over alcohol poisoning than a cold."

Snuggling against his chest, Nikita's fingers wrapped around her necklace before her breath evened out and she was sound asleep. He pressed a kiss to her temple—smiling at the fact that her hand was still curled around the rubies—before also falling asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for all the subscriptions, reviews, and favorites! It means everything to me! Please read, review, and enjoy! :)**

Michael awoke in the morning to an empty bed. The curtains had been parted slightly, sleek beams of sunlight slanted into the room. He stood up and stretched, wondering where his drunken partner had wandered off to. Venturing into the kitchen, he spotted her pouring out coffee, still clad in his t-shirt.

He smiled. "You made coffee?"

"No," she corrected. "I made I'm-so-sorry-I-was-such-a-drunk-baby-last-night-coffee."

Snickering, he reached for a cup, remembering his associate in her tipsy state. "It was _very_ entertaining, I will say that."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Change and let's go for a walk," she said, motioning towards his boxers. "I want to talk about last night."

Ten minutes later, they were in the bright Hawaiian sunshine, bare feet treading over the sand and surf. The sun smiled brightly on the deadly duo, showering them with beams of golden light. Still clasping hands, they jumped over tiny waves and kicked sand up, laughing the entire time. After they had meandered a considerable distance away from the hotel, Michael pulled them to a stop.

"How'd you get the intel?"

Nikita laughed humorlessly. "Pretty easily, actually. After you two went off dancing, he went and spilled everything to me at the bar. I just swiped his phone and copied the SIM card when he was drunk enough. He was pretty smashed when I was done with him."

"At least your target was easy to deal with. Victoria's been difficult. She's got a wall around everything."

"Besides you. She _loves_ you," Nikita growled, a flash of irritation clouding her features. "She couldn't keep her hands off of you the entire night. Even when I was there."

"I'd rather get drunk than be fondled by her all night."

"Well, we got what we needed," she said, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "A week ahead of schedule…again."

"We're getting too good at this."

"We just make a great team." She stuck her foot into the sand, widening it into a gaping hole. Her voice was soft and breathy, whispering into the golden air. The sun cast a halo-like glow around her and her skin was slowly tanning into a gleaming mocha. He pulled her down onto the sand next to him, absentmindedly enlarging the hole that she'd made with his toes.

"What are we going to do for the next week?" he asked. "More hula dancing?"

"Nope." She made a revolted noise under her breath. "Never again."

A wave crashed onto the shore and Michael quickly scooped Nikita up out of harm's way, letting the icy water swirl around his knees.

"Thanks," she breathed into his neck. "Especially because I'm wearing white."

A flash of heat streaked down his spine and he wrapped her tighter in his arms. They were nearing the resort again and the faint murmur of conversation began to rise in volume. Switching back to honeymoon phase, Nikita pressed her lips to Michael's ear.

"Forget about next week," she whispered seductively. "All I want now is…a bath."

Her lips twitched when she saw Michael's confused expression. Sniggering slightly, she wriggled out of his arms, ending up on her own two feet. Wrapping her hands around his waist, she pressed her lips to his neck. "Feel free to join me," she whispered, before flitting away, shooting him a devious backwards glance.

* * *

><p>An enormous circle of candles surrounded the Jacuzzi, the warm glow casting mesmerizing silhouettes on the bathroom walls. A sheet of glass facing the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean allowed beams of moonlight to slant in. Aromatic bath crystals had already been dissolved in the fragrant bath water, filling the enormous space with the perfumed smell of vanilla and raspberries. Orchids floated atop the millions of bubbles bobbing on the water's surface. The enormous bath tub was large enough to accommodate an entire football team.<p>

Nikita slipped out of her robe before easing herself into the tub. She extended her legs, pointing her toes and leaned back, pillowing her arms behind her head. Her eyes drifted to a close and she sighed, luxuriating in the water's tender embrace. One hand reached up to stroke the enormous gemstones that were still resting on her collarbone.

A gust of chill wind blew in and she started, eyes flying open. In the doorway stood Michael, his features barely visible in the dim light.

"Michael," she gasped. "I-I'm not wearing anything!"

That fact hardly mattered as bubbles and petals were shielding her entire body from view.

"I know," he replied, unperturbed by her obvious statement. "I decided to take you up on your offer."

He tossed her a white bikini, the skimpiest one out of the vast collection that Amanda had packed for her. She glowered at him before pulling it on. Turning, she motioned him towards her.

"You're going to have to tie the back for me," she sighed, exasperated.

Expertly knotting the strings, he removed his own robe, revealing black swim shorts. Slipping into the water next to her, he opened his arms, a mischievous grin playing across his face.

_Stay in character_, he mouthed.

"But I thought we didn't—" she began, before Michael's warning glance stopped her.

Rolling her eyes, she swam over to him, allowing his arms to wrap around her torso. His touch caused the slow burn in her chest to expand, flowing into her limbs. She closed her eyes, trying not to do anything too stupid. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, humming softly too himself.

"Why are you doing this to me, Michael?" she whispered hoarsely, repeating his exact words from Italy.

"Nothing," he replied, his lips stroking the shell of her ear. "I'm just proving that I _can_ think for myself."

It was strange how quickly their relationship had shifted from embarrassment at the slightest touch to throwing themselves at each other every time the other turned their backs.

Nikita sighed, leaning back into Michael's muscled chest. He already knew how she felt and she was obviously aware of his feelings. Basking in the feel of her skin on his, Michael's brain finally snapped. _Fuck it._ If he was going to hell, he may as well enjoy the ride.

His right hand slid up to grasp the knot sitting at the base of her neck. With a sly jerk of his fingers, the white fabric slipped off of Nikita's body and into the water, disappearing below the surface.

"Michael," she gasped, turning towards him, her arms crossed chastely over her chest.

"We're on our honeymoon, _darling_," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine. His eyes bored into hers, a fiery gleam in them.

_Stay in character._ The mantra sounded through her head again. At least this time she had an excuse for her actions. Twisting in his arms, she leaned forward, snaking her hands into his hair. She murmured softly into his ear, "For our honeymoon."

Placing his hand on her cheek, he turned her towards him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, brushing them across both cheeks and down her neck.

"Such a tease," she breathed, before placing a finger on his chin and pulling it back to her face. But before their lips could meet, Michael immediately stood, showering Nikita with orchid petals and water. Leaning down, he pulled her out of the bathtub, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Bundling her in a fluffy towel, soft kisses feathered down his neck as he carried her into their bedroom. Dropping her onto their enormous bed, he yanked the filmy curtains out of their ties. It was rather like being inside a cloud.

He tumbled onto the bed with an 'mph' before pulling Nikita onto his chest.

"Happy honeymoon," he crooned into her ear before whisking the towel away from her body. Slowly, gently, he pulled her in for a kiss. She smiled against his lips before reaching down and pulling the sheet over their heads.

* * *

><p>Michael's eyes snapped open, taking in the white curtains whispering softly around the bed. Pressing a kiss to a sleeping Nikita's bare shoulder, he eased out of the bed, taking care not to jostle her. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled a message onto a hotel note pad, leaving it on the nightstand. <em>Went out for a walk, be back at 9.<em>

He pulled on a white polo and khaki shorts. Grabbing his watch, he clicked it onto his wrist, before slipping out of the suite, closing the door with a snap.

Strolling into the lobby, he spotted Victoria sitting in a chair, patiently waiting. She smiled kindly when he approached her.

"Right on time." She stood up, grabbing her Gucci purse. "C'mon, let's go."

"Wait, I thought you only wanted my opinion on something," he said, eyebrows slightly raised. "That's what you said a few nights ago."

"I'm meeting a couple…investors for the company. And I do want your opinion; you're in some kind of firm so I assume you can handle finances and the like. I was never too good at that sort of thing." She linked her arm through his, guiding him out to a limousine waiting at the hotel's entrance.

Michael's soldier sense was buzzing forebodingly, but he swatted it away, his mind focused slightly on Victoria, but mainly on a naked Nikita still slumbering in his room. He should have listened to it when he still had the chance.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I know I haven't updated in a while, been busy with school and such. This is a really short chapter, but I still hope you'll enjoy! Read and review!

The limousine rolled smoothly away, carrying its passengers farther and farther away from the lap of luxury. Michael stared out of the bulletproof windows, watching as their setting became gradually more rural. He was finally on high alert, but it was already too late. Sitting across from him, Victoria crossed her legs, smirking devilishly.

They pulled up in front of an abandoned hut sitting on a beach littered with trash and other debris. The hut itself was already a mess, tattered bamboo and palm leaves flapping in the wind. Their chauffeur opened the door, allowing them to slide out. As he inclined his head, Michael noticed a holster with a gun inside it attached to the man's hip.

"Victoria…" he began, turning to look at her, before hearing the ominous sound of a gun being cocked. She leveled a Glock at him and he cursed inwardly.

"Honestly, are you that stupid?" she laughed, her voice still light. "You American agents are just too cocky."

Two men lined up behind her, both wielding sublevel machine guns. Both had obviously had not been hired for their brains. They were practically shaved apes, holding their firearms awkwardly.

"Take him inside," Victoria ordered, slicing the air with her arm. Both obeyed, grabbing Michael's arms and dragging him into the cabin. The inside of the hut was dismal, a naked bulb hung from the ceiling. The solitary room was empty, save for a few boxes and a chair. Michael was yanked onto the chair and tied down, ropes cutting into his arms and ankles.

"Go outside and stand guard," Victoria barked, pointing them back out.

She leaned forward, hands on Michael's. Their noses were practically touching. "Tell me what I want to know and I won't kill you." The way she was grinning, he knew either way she planned on ending him. Pulling off her coat to reveal a black tank top and black jeans, she draped the coat over a dusty box. From that simple gesture, he knew he was in for some Amanda-esque torture.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," he replied, offering her a snarky grin.

"You're just another idiot American agent who always has to poke their noses into places where it doesn't belong. And they need to be punished." With those lovely words, she reached into her purse and pulled out a large metal object, slipping it onto her hand.

Michael almost had to laugh. "Brass knuckles, really?"

"They're quite efficient really," she said, before solemnly slamming her fist into his face.

* * *

><p>Nikita was worried. It was now 9:15 and Michael was late. There was not a chance in hell that he could be late—it just wasn't possible.<p>

All she knew was that something was terribly wrong.

Venturing into the lobby, she saw Austin who was—suspiciously—alone, not dutifully following Victoria like the pup she had molded him to be.

"Austin," she called, waving at him. "Have you seen Victoria?"

"She went out this morning," he replied. Smiling, he looked absolutely ecstatic over his newfound freedom. "Said she had business stuff to attend to."

"Right," Nikita replied, unable to make up small talk and unwilling to waste any time. Turning away, she ran back toward the elevator.

So Victoria was missing also. She knew how to connect two and two. Clenching her fists, angry tears began to burn in her eyes. She was going to kill that bitch.

Back in her room, she rifled through the documents that were in Michael's suitcase. It didn't matter that her room was bugged; their cover had already been blown. Desperately pawing through the files, she screamed in frustration. Nothing. Overturning the folders with one furious flick of her wrist, the papers flapped around her like enormous sea gulls before fluttering to the floor. She pounded her fist into her knee, wincing when she felt something metal slice into her skin. Glancing down, her 'wedding ring' winked up at her. Of course, their jewelry trackers. The watch. Snatching up Michael's computer, she plugged in his tracker number, crossing her fingers and desperately hoping. A red dot began to flash and Nikita plugged the coordinates into her phone. Squinting at the dot's location, her eyes widened in horror.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hi! Sorry, I haven't updated in a while... still hope you enjoy! Please read and review! :)**

* * *

><p>Michael grunted as the cool metal sliced through his cheek once again. The prissy British girl was a lot stronger than he had expected. She stood in front of him, her pale biceps gleaming in the dark light. Spitting blood onto the floor, he glared balefully up at Victoria.<p>

"It's useless, you may as well kill me now," he snarled at her.

"You know, I didn't attain my position in Daddy's drug empire by surrendering," she said, calmly fishing out a handkerchief and wiping blood off her brass knuckles. "I control practically all of England. You'd be surprised at how many of the royals are actually druggies."

She twirled a lock of hair absentmindedly, gazing at him with her glacial blue eyes. After a few more tense minutes she finally broke the silence. "Who do you work for? And what do you know about me and my life?" she prodded doggedly.

"You wouldn't know them even if I told you," Michael replied. "But I do know that you're a prudish, fussy, little bitch."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you're going to need a better insult than that."

"Why don't I ask you some questions?"

"Fire away," she responded, waving one hand lazily in the air.

"How'd you figure it out?" He lisped slightly, the blood in his mouth interfering with his tongue and clear speech.

"Easy," she replied. "Half of my training to take over Daddy's business involved sniffing out idiots like you. And the girl you're with is way out of your league."

"And Austin is way out of yours."

Immediately, her eyes narrowed and she unleashed a stinging slap across his cheek. After releasing another succession of punches to his face, she finally sighed. "You're right, this is useless. And I'm _bored_."

She walked to the doorway of the hut and shrieked an order to the two bodyguards still waiting outside. They reappeared inside and dragged Michael to the back of the room. Yanking off his pants and shirt, they forced him into a scuba suit. Grabbing his armpits, they ventured outside, squinting against the bright sunshine. Victoria was waiting in a motorboat, dressed in a similar outfit, with her blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail.

"Hurry up," she barked.

Michael was tossed into the boat and tied to a chair next to Victoria's. A cinder block was fastened to his foot with metal chains. He sucked in a quick breath, already anticipating his eventual death. Expertly piloting the craft into open waters, Victoria secured an oxygen tank to herself and to Michael. They were alone in the middle of the ocean.

"It truly was nice meeting you, Michael," she finally said. He highly doubted that. Before he could respond with a sarcastic reply, she continued. "I wanted to take you to a boat that's on the bottom. My father and I sent it and its owner down there when he stood in our way."

He was surprised the sun didn't shrink away from her glacial smile. It felt as if his innards were knotting themselves and tugging to be free. As she pushed him over the side, swiftly following, he only hoped that Victoria wouldn't target Nikita next.

Immediately, he plummeted down, the intense weight of the cinderblock dragging him frighteningly fast. It landed on the ocean floor, sending a spray of sand up. To his right, Victoria landed gracefully, a divers dagger pointed at his back. Waving her arms to the right, she jabbed him in the ribs and he winced, feeling the blade slice through fabric and into his skin. They approached the wreck, Victoria swimming elegantly, him heaving at his enormous burden.

The boat loomed ahead of them, though it hardly resembled one. It had been smashed into three large pieces, each enveloped in swathes of barnacles. Seaweed wound around it and schools of silver fish darted through the rusted wreckage. It was beyond intimating and the pure pinnacle of madness.

He turned to see Victoria, floating gently above him, out of his reach. Pointing at the wreck, then at herself, she mouthed, _I_ _win_. Silver bubbles exploded out of her mouth and her blue eyes crinkled up as she laughed demonically. Suddenly her mouth widened and she began to struggle furiously, hands clawing at her neck. After several more minutes, her body stiffened and began to jerk violently, before slowly falling limp. He saw a flash of silver and red leave her throat and her body fell away, revealing Nikita. His gift to her was dangling in her fingers, throwing off tiny glints of light. The rage in her eyes when she faced Alexandr back in Italy was nothing compared to the murderous hatred he saw now.

She swam over to Michael and stuck her fingers into the metal chains, effectively loosening them. Grabbing Michael, she towed him over to the wreckage. He tried wrapping his arms around her, but she pulled away, pointing at the timer on his oxygen tank.

Three minutes left.

Running her hands down the chain, she fingered a rusty link with a split down its middle. Snatching an enormous angled piece of wood from the decapitated boat, she levered it against the chain, forcing the metal bolts in the wood to grate against the shackles. Yanking Victoria's oxygen tank off of her back, she slammed it into the wood, causing the nails to drive themselves against the weak link in the chain, effectively snapping it. Hoisting Michael against her, she swiftly kicked off from the ocean's bottom. Her eyes widened as she watched his slowly drifting closed from lack of oxygen. With super-human strength she lashed her feet out furiously, propelling them to the surface. Keeping his hand, she clambered into Victoria's boat before leaning out and heaving Michael in. Carefully, she tipped his head against the side of the craft before smacking him hard on the back. A stream of water laced with blood came out and he coughed violently, his entire frame shaking. After he was finished, Nikita pulled him towards her, pressing his head to her chest. Softly crooning to him, she laid a kiss on his forehead.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This chapter is pretty short .. still hope you enjoy!**

"Can you walk?" she asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll be fine," he grunted. Victoria had pummeled just about every part of his body and despite the strong front he was putting out, every particle of him was desperately screaming for release.

Allowing Nikita to settle him into a car sitting on the street behind the limousine, he spotted the unconscious bodies of the two guards lying on the beach, with enormous red lumps sprouting from their heads.

She slid in on his other side, jump-starting the car with a pair of pliers. Not taking her eyes off the road, she handed him an enormous pair of aviators and a baseball cap.

"It's to cover your face," she said, in response to his questioning glance.

As they approached the hotel, Nikita slid out, quickly grasping Michael's arm. They entered the hotel from a side exit, unwilling to attract attention or heaven forbid—run into Austin.

Once inside their suite, Nikita eased Michael onto the couch, gently probing his cheeks. She handed him an icepack and he gratefully pressed it to his face, thanking her with the relieved moan that escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry." Nikita let Michael settle his head into her lap. As the words left her mouth, he glanced at her, incredulous.

"Sorry for what? You're not the one that screwed up."

"I'm sorry that I didn't get there in time to save you from your…ordeal." She shifted on the sofa, propping Michael's head up under a cushion. Suddenly, she laughed, the delighted sound bursting from her lungs.

He glanced up at her inquisitively. "What?"

"It's my turn to take care of you," she replied, ruffling his hair. "And we'll start with getting you into a shower."

* * *

><p>Michael awoke slowly, every nerve in his body aching. He heard the whisk of curtains and sunlight poured in. Cracking open one eyelid, he saw Nikita slide the curtains back closed, muffling the intense gleam of Hawaiian sunshine. She sat on the bed next to him, smiling softly, purple bags under her eyes.<p>

"You're finally awake. I've been up ever since you went to sleep." She rubbed her eyes and muffled a yawn into her hand.

"How long was that?"

"Like fifteen hours ago," she said, pointing at the watch that was still around his wrist. "By the way, check out the news."

She grabbed the remote and pressed a button, bringing the flat screen to life. A female reporter was covering the disappearance of Lady Victoria Aston. Several images of her arm in arm with Austin, smiling and waving were projected onto the screen. Those pictures couldn't be farther from the truth. After several minutes of watching the Astons plead for the return of their 'princess', Nikita shut off the TV. Leaning against the fluffy pillows plumped under Michael's head, she linked her hand through his.

"Birkhoff called. We're expected to fly back day after tomorrow."

"I thought we had another five days."

"Apparently not." Her fingers gently found his cheeks, probing the bruises lightly.

He watched her eyes harden in anger as she examined the damage. "Is it really that bad?" he asked lightly.

"Swellings gone down," she said tightly, a strain in her voice. "It's also less purple."

"That's good," he replied, running a finger lightly over her palm. "But at least you were able to put my present to good use."

Her fingers unconsciously wound around the gems still sitting at her throat. "Thank you."

He leaned forward and she brushed her lips across his lightly. Settling in his arms, an exhausted Nikita slowly drifted off to sleep.

**Only one chapter left! Please review! It motivates me to continue! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: This is the end! Hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

"Damn, you're good at this." Michael examined his face in the mirror, twisting it from side to side. The purple bruises and various cuts on his face had virtually disappeared, leaving behind peachy skin. Nikita stood next to him, smirking, while holding a downy powder puff.

It was the day that they were expected to leave Hawaii. Although Michael's face looked less like a bowl of chopped meat, it was likely to draw suspicion and unnecessary attention at the airport.

Dragging a wildly protesting Michael into the bathroom, Nikita pulled out an enormous black pouch, plopping it onto the counter. Powders and creams whipped themselves out and Michael miserably sat on the toilet for thirty minutes while Nikita toiled on his face.

The rest of their trip was a breeze. Arriving at JFK International Airport, they flew past security and into a taxi. While making their journey back to Division, Michael received a message from Birkhoff.

_Meet me at your place right now. Bring Nik. _

Confused, Michael redirected the taxi driver, swinging their way to his apartment. Entering the building, Michael unlocked his door, conducting Nikita through. They both turned to see a flustered Birkhoff sitting on Michael's couch, electronic tablet in hand.

"What? Why are you here?" Michael asked irritably.

"You two," Birkhoff snarled, pointing a shaking finger at them. "Do you know what I've had to do while you guys were off in effing Hawaii?"

Nikita grabbed Michael, settling themselves on the sofa next to Birkhoff. He rested an arm across her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

"No, we don't nerd," she said, rolling her eyes. "So why don't you just calm down and tell us?"

"You know how Amanda said that the room would be bugged?" he asked, waiting until they both nodded. "The Astons didn't bug it. Division did. It was a test."

Nikita shot out of Michael's embrace, hands running through her hair. "Oh, God."

Michael simply sat immobile, expression and posture frozen. After several agonizingly tense seconds, he finally spoke. "What did Percy see?"

Birkhoff shook his head in dismay. "You guys honestly think that I'm such a crappy person? I looped it and made some manips of you two. The only thing Percy thinks you did was hug and hold hands. But—"

His words were cut off as Nikita launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my God, Oh my—" she babbled.

He pried Nikita off of his neck, rubbing at it. "You guys owe me. I've lost sleep over this. And Percy's been breathing down my neck."

Michael stood up and began to pace. "So Percy was already suspicious."

"Exactly, so you got to cut off some of that lovey-dovey crap. Honestly, I'm kind of disappointed that no bugs were planted in your bedroom. It would've been fun to sift through _that_ stuff."

He winced as Nikita slapped him smartly on the shoulder. "I'm not a Hilton or a Kardashian. I don't make sex tapes."

They simultaneously headed for the door, Michael shutting it quietly behind him. Nikita's eyes were hazy, uncertainty still sitting heavily in them. Leaning down, Michael pressed his lips softly to hers before pulling away.

"Just because we have to tone it down, doesn't mean it has to be gone," he murmured, smirking at her before proceeding down the hallway.

Nikita stared after him, her lips slowly curling into a smile. Laughing softly to herself, she followed him, quietly calling after his retreating back.

"Tease."

**AN: Done! I'm a bit bored now .. What should I do next? :)**


End file.
